without any invitation, she flung herself recklessly into his arms and
lay there, trembling, palpitating like an imprisoned bird. "Forgive me,
dear," he exclaimed, softly. "I knew better all the time. You mustn't
think of doing what they ask; I won't allow it." His own heart-beats
were shaking him, and he hardly knew what he was saying. The sight of
her grief maddened him. It was as if they had taken advantage of his
helpless little maid to hurt her maliciously, and his indignation
blazed forth. She looked up with eyes gleaming through her tears and
said, brokenly:
"Senor, I love you truly. You see, I cannot lie."
Her breath intoxicated him, and he bent his head to kiss her, but
Stephanie tore her roughly from his arms. The woman showed the strength
of a man, and her vulture-like face was working fiercely as she cried:
"No! She is mine! She is mine! She is a good girl."
"Stephanie! She loves me, don't you see?"
"No, no!" The black woman drew the girl into the shelter of her own
arms.
"Oh, I am wicked," Gertrudis said. "I love you, Keerk--yes, I love you
very dearly, but my father--he refuses--I must obey--he has the right,
and I must do as he wishes."
"Come with me now. We'll be married to-night," he urged; but she only
clung to Stephanie more closely, as if to hold herself from falling.
"You are very sweet to me," she said, with piteous tenderness, "and I
shall never forget the honor; but you see I cannot. This is more to my
father than his life; it is the same to all our family, and I must do
my duty. I will pray for strength to keep from loving you, senor, and
some day, perhaps, the dear God will hear. You must do likewise, and
pray also for me to have courage, I could not let you go away thinking
this was my doing, so I sent for you. No, one must obey one's people,
for they are wise--and good. But one should be honest."
The tears were stealing down her cheeks, and she thrilled to his
pleadings as to some wondrous music, yet she was like adamant, and all
his lover's desperation could not shake her. It was strange to see this
slender, timid slip of a girl so melting and yet so cruelly firm. He
appealed to Stephanie, but she was as unresponsive as a bronze image.
Seeing that his urging only made matters worse, he said, more gently:
"You are exalted now with the spirit of self-sacrifice, but later you
will see that I am right. I am not discouraged. A thousand things may
happen. Who knows what to-morrow may bring? Let's wait and see if we
can't find a way out. Now that I know you love me, I have the courage
to face anything, and I am going to win you, Chiquita. I have never
lost in all my life, and I don't intend to begin now. I'll see your
father in the morning, and I'll be here again, to-morrow night--"
But at this Gertrudis cried out: "No, no! I cannot meet you again in
this manner." And Stephanie nodded her agreement.
"Then I'll see you the next night, that is Saturday. You are coming to
the big ball at the Tivoli with him and the Cortlandts--I must see you
then, so make sure to be there, and meanwhile don't give up."
"Oh, there is no hope."
"There is always hope. I'll think of something."
"We must go," said the Barbadian woman, warningly.
"Yes, yes! It is of no avail to resist," came the girl's choking voice.
She stretched out her little hand, and then, looking up at him, said,
uncertainly: "I--may never speak with you again alone, senor, and I
must pray to--cease loving you; but will you--kiss me once so that I
may never forget?"
He breathed a tender exclamation and took her gently to his breast,
while the negress stood by scowling and muttering.
The memory of that long, breathless moment lived with him for years.
Strangely enough, at the touch of her lips he felt his courage forsake
him--it ran out like water. He became weak, fearful, despairing, as if
it were his life that was ebbing away. And the pang when she drew
herself from him was like a bayonet-thrust. Even when she and Stephanie
had melted into the shadows, he stood motionless under the spell of
that caress, its ecstasy still suffusing him.
He found himself following slowly in the direction they had taken in
the hope of catching just one more glimpse of her, but as he emerged
from the darkness of the park he paused. There across the street, in
the little open shrine set in the corner of the great cathedral, she
was kneeling before the shining figure of the Madonna. The candle-glow
that illumined the holy image and shone out so hopefully against the
gloom showed her crouched close before the altar, her dark head bowed
in uttermost dejection. Outside, and barely revealed, stood the tall,
gaunt Bajan woman, silent, watchful, and forbidding.
With a painful grip at his throat Kirk watched until the girl rose and
hurried away into the shadows. Then he, too, turned and made his way up
the street, but he went slowly, unseeingly, as if he had beheld a
vision.
For the first time in his life he was a prey to fear. A thousand panics
clamored at him, his mind began working with the exaggerated speed of a
person in dire peril. Once more, as upon that night when he had first
called at her father's house, he turned abruptly at the corner to stare
at her window, and again he surprised a figure skulking after him.
Without a moment's hesitation he made after it at a run, but the fellow
dodged into the Plaza and disappeared among the shrubbery. Not caring
to pursue the chase into those lurking shadows Kirk desisted, certain
only of one thing--that he was not Allan who was trailing him. He
recalled the oft-repeated threats of Ramon Alfarez, and returned to his
quarters by way of the lighted thoroughfares.
XXIV
A BUSINESS PROPOSITION
Edith Cortlandt's interview with the rival candidates for the
Panamanian Presidency formed but a part of her plan. She next held a
long conversation with Colonel Jolson, to the end that on Friday
morning Runnels heard a rumor that threw him into the greatest
consternation. It was to the effect that instead of his succeeding to
the office of Superintendent, he was to retain his old post, and that
Colonel Jolson's brother-in-law was to supersede him. Although the word
was not authoritative, it came with sufficient directness to leave him
aghast. If true, it was, of course, equivalent to his discharge, for it
meant that he could not even continue in his former position without
putting himself in a light intolerable to any man of spirit. Since he
was entitled to the promotion, had been promised it, in fact, and had
made his plans accordingly, there was no course open except
resignation. If he did not resign voluntarily, he knew that his new
superior would eventually force him to do so, for Blakeley would build
up an organization of his own, and in it there would be no place for
one who had aspired to the highest office.
Inasmuch as his assistant was concerned in this threatened calamity,
Runnels made haste to lay the matter before him. At first Kirk was
inclined to take it as a joke, but his friend quickly brought him to a
more serious frame of mind.
"No," he said, "Blakeley has finally put it over. He's wanted this
position for a long time, and I guess the Cortlandts weren't strong
enough to prevent it--or else they have broken with the Colonel."
"Didn't he promise you the job?"
"Sure! But what are promises? I've been double-crossed, that's all. It
means I must quit."
"Of course. I'm trying to figure out what it will mean to me."
Runnels smiled grimly. "The same thing it would mean to me if I stayed,
I'd go back to my desk; in a month I'd have a row with Blakeley, no
matter what I did; then I'd be fired and have a tough time getting a
job with another railroad. Of course, the Cortlandts might do more for
you than they would for me, and you might be able to hang on."
"Then this would seem to end our fine hopes, eh?"
"Rather!" Runnels broke out, bitterly. "I've worked like a nigger,
Kirk, and I deserve promotion if anybody ever did. This other fellow is
a dub--he has proven that. Why, I've forgotten more railroading than
he'll ever know. Every man on the system hates him and likes me; and on
top of it all I was PROMISED the job. It's tough on the wife and the
kid."
He stopped to swallow his emotion. He was a single-purposed, somewhat
serious man, a little lacking in resilience, and he could not meet
misfortune with Kirk's careless self-confidence.
"I gave this job the best I had in me," he went on, "for I had the idea
that I was doing something patriotic, something for my country--that's
the way they used to talk about this Canal, you know. I've put in four
years of hell; I've lost step with the world; I've lost my business
connections in the States; and I haven't saved up any money, I CAN'T
quit, and yet I'll have to, for if I'm fired it'll mean I'll have to go
back there and start at the bottom again. Those people don't know
anything about these damned politics; they'll think I made a failure
here in government work, and I'll have to live it down. Still, I
suppose I ought not to kick--it's happening all the time to other
fellows who came down here with hopes as high as mine--fellows who have
given even more to the job than I have. What are YOU going to do?"
Kirk started. "Oh, I don't know. I was thinking about you. This job
doesn't worry me, for I'm on my feet at last, and I know I have the
goods with me--they can have my position and welcome. Now, about you. I
haven't spent much of that lottery coin. It's in the bank, all that
Allan hasn't used, and half of it is yours, if you'll take it. You and
Mrs. Runnels and the kid, and Allan and I--and one other party--will
hike back home and get something else to do. What do you say?"
Runnels' voice shook as he answered: "By Jove! You're the--real stuff,
Anthony. I'll think it over." He turned away as if ashamed of his show
of feeling, only to whirl about with the question, "Who is this 'other
party'?"
"My wife."
"Good Lord! You're not married?"
"No, but I'm going to be. You talk about YOUR troubles; now listen to
mine. I'll make you weep like a fog." Briefly he told his friend of the
blow that had so suddenly fallen upon him.
"You ARE up against it, old man," agreed Runnels, when he had heard
all. "Garavel has set his heart on the Presidency, and he'll pay any
price to get it. It's the same all over Central America; these people
are mad on politics. There are never more than two parties, you
know--the Wanters and the Hasers. The Wanters are out and the Hasers
are in; that's what makes these wicked little revolutions at every
change of the moon--it isn't a question of policy at all. Now, if Miss
Gertrudis were an American girl, she might rebel, elope, do something
like that, but she's been reared with the Spanish notions of obedience,
and I dare say she will submit tamely because she doesn't know how to
put up a fight. That's an admirable characteristic in a wife, but not
very helpful in a sweetheart."
"Well, she's half American," said Kirk.
"What do you mean by that?"
"I mean the game isn't over. I carried the ball forty yards once for a
touchdown in the last ten seconds of play, and Yale won. I had good
'interference' then, and I need it now. Somebody'll have to run ahead
of me."
Runnels smiled. "I guess you can count on me. What is the plan?"
For the next half-hour the two talked earnestly, their heads together,
their voices low.
"I don't believe it will work, my boy," Runnels said at last. "I know
these people better than you, and yet--Lord! if it does come off!" He
whistled softly. "Well, they may kick the political props out from
under us, but there will be an awful crash when we hit. Now, don't
mention this rumor about Blakeley. I want to see Steve Cortlandt first."
"Cortlandt! By-the-way, do you happen to remember that he's to be our
guest for supper to-morrow night? Kind of a joke now, trying to thank
him for what he's done, isn't it?"
"Not at all. It may be our one chance of salvation; he may be the one
person who can help us."
"Well," Kirk reflected, "I have a good deal to thank him for, I
suppose, outside of this, and I'll go through with my part."
He proceeded at once to put his plan into execution, his first step
being to rent a room at the Tivoli, taking particular care to select
one on the first floor in the north wing. That evening he and Allan
moved. It was a simple process, yet he felt that he was engaged in the
most momentous act of his Hie. As to its outcome much depended upon
Runnels and much more upon himself--so much, in fact, that when he came
to look at the matter coldly he confessed the hope of success was
slender. But such as it was he clung to it desperately.
Runnels telephoned during the evening that he had been equal to his
part of the task, so there remained nothing to do but wait for the hour
of the dance.
Over and over Anthony asked himself if he were not foolish to pin his
faith to so slight a chance, but he could find no answer. He slept
little amid his new surroundings that night, and awoke Saturday morning
thrilled with the certainty that his life's crisis was but a few hours
away.
It was considerably after dark on Saturday evening that John Weeks,
American Consul at Colon, received a caller who came to him direct from
the Royal Mail steamer just docked. At first sight the stranger did not
impress Mr. Weeks as a man of particular importance. His face was
insignificant, and his pale-blue eyes showed little force. His only
noticeable feature was displayed when he removed his hat. Then it could
be seen that a wide, white scar ran from just over his temple to a
point back of his right ear.
He made his name known as Williams, which, of course, meant nothing to
the consul, and while drinking one of Weeks' high-balls, inquired idly
about the country, the climate, and the people, as if in no hurry to
come to his point. Weeks watched him shrewdly, convinced at last by his
visitor's excessive caution that his first judgment had been wrong, and
that the man was more knowing than he seemed. Mr. Williams was likewise
studying the fat man, and when he had satisfied himself, came out
openly with these words:
"I'm looking for a chap named Wellar. He landed here some time late in
November."
"Friend of yours?"
"Um--m--not exactly." Mr. Williams ran a hand meditatively over the
ragged scar on his scalp, as if from force of habit.
"Wellar? I never heard of him."
"He may have travelled under another name. Ever hear of a fellow called
Locke?"
The consul's moist lips drew together, his red eyes gleamed watchfully.
"Maybe I have, and maybe I haven't," said he. "Why do you want him?"
"I heard he was here. I'd enjoy meeting him again."
"What does he look like?"
Mr. Williams rattled off a description of Kirk Anthony so photographic
that the consul suddenly saw a great light.
"Yes, I know him all right," he confessed, warmly. "He's a good friend
of mine, too; in fact, he lived with me for a while." Misconstruing the
eager expression that came to his caller's face, he rose heavily and
thrust out a thick, wet hand. "Don't let's beat about the bush, Mr.
Anthony; your son is safe and well and making a name for himself. I'm
happy to say I helped him--not much, to be sure, but all I could--yes,
sir, I acknowledge the corn--and I'm glad to meet you at last. I have
been waiting for you to arrive, and I'm glad you dropped in on me. I
have a lot of things to talk about."
But the other stared upward impatiently. "No, no! You've got me wrong.
I'm a detective, and I'm after your friend Wellar, alias Locke, alias
Anthony. He's wanted for embezzlement and assault and a few other
things, and I'm going to take him." The indistinctive Mr. Williams
spoke sharply, and his pale blue eyes were suddenly hard and bright.
Weeks stared open-mouthed for an instant. "Then you're really not
Darwin K. Anthony?" he gasped.
"Certainly not. Here's the warrant. I'm sorry this chap is your pal,
but--"
"My pal! Hell, I hate him like the smallpox. Good thing you spoke or
I'd have sold you a cocoanut grove. I KNEW he was wrong. Embezzler, eh?
Well, well!"
"Eighty thousand, that's all, and he's got it on him."
"You're wrong there; he was broke when he landed. I ought to know."
"Oh no! He came down on the Santa Cruz; I've seen the purser. He
travelled under the name of Jefferson Locke. There's no mistake, and he
couldn't have blown it all. No, it's sewed into his shirt, and I'm here
to grab it."
Weeks whistled in amazement. "He IS a shrewd one. Eighty thou--Lord, I
wish I'd known that! He's here, all right, working for the railroad and
living at Panama. He's made good, too, and got some influential
friends. Oh, this is great!"
"Working, hey? Clever stall! Do you see that?" Williams inclined his
head for a fuller display of the disfiguration over his ear. "He hung
that on me, with a bottle. I damn near died." He laughed disagreeably.
"He'll go back, and he'll go back quick. How do I get to Panama?"
Weeks consulted his watch hastily.
"You've missed the last train; but we'll go over together in the
morning. I want to have a hand in this arrest for reasons of my own; I
don't like him or his influential friends." He began to chuckle
ponderously. "No, I don't like his influential friends, in particular."
While this scene was being enacted on the north side of the Isthmus,
Kirk Anthony, over at the Tivoli Hotel, was making himself ready for
the ball with particular pains. Even his personal appearance might have
a bearing upon the outcome of this adventure, and he dared not overlook
the slightest advantage.
Allan regarded him admiringly from many angles.
"Oh, Master h'Auntony," he exclaimed, rapturously, "you are beautiful!"
"Thanks! Again thanks! Now, can you remember to do as I have told you?"
"I would die--"
"DON'T say that again, I'm too nervous. Here are your instructions,
once more. Keep both doors to this room locked and stand by the one to
the veranda! Don't let any one in except Mr. Runnels and the man he'll
bring. DON'T--LEAVE--THIS--SPOT, no matter what happens. Does that
penetrate your teakwood dome? Does your ivory cue-ball encompass that
thought?"
"I shall watch this h'apartment carefully, never fear."
"But I do fear. I'm scared to death. My hands are go cold they are
brittle. Remember, when I knock, so, let me in instantly, and keep your
wits about you."
"H'Allan never fails, sar. But what is coming to pahss?"
"Never mind what is coming to pass. This is going to be a big night, my
boy--a very big night." Kirk strolled out into the hall and made his
way to the lobby.
Already the orchestra was tuning up, the wide porches were filling with
well-dressed people, while a stream of coaches at the door was
delivering the arrivals on the special from Colon. It was a very
animated crowd, sprinkled plentifully with Spanish people--something
quite unusual, by-the-way--while the presence of many uniforms gave the
affair almost the brilliance of a military function. There were marine
officers from Bas Obispo, straight, trim, brown of cheek; naval
officers from the cruisers in the roadstead, clad in their white
trousers and bell-boy jackets; army officers detailed from Washington
on special duty; others from the various parts of the work itself.
Kirk wandered about through the confusion, nodding to his friends,
chatting here and there, his eyes fixed anxiously upon the door.
Clifford approached and fell into conversation with him.
"Great doings, eh? I came up from the Central just to see what these
affairs are like. Did you see to-night's paper?"
"No."
"Garavel is going to run for President. This is a kind of political
coming-out party."
"So I believe."
"It looked like a fight between him and General Alfarez, but they've
patched it up, and the General is going to withdraw. Garavel is to have
Uncle Sam's congratulations and co-operation. It's a joke, isn't it,
this international good feeling?"
"Excuse me." Anthony saw Runnels searching the room with anxiety. He
hurried toward him and inquired, breathlessly:
"Have you got him?"
"Sure, I showed him your room."
"Did you lock him in?"
"Certainly not."
"He'll get away."
"Oh no, he'll be on the job. Has she come?"
Kirk shook his head. "Gee! I'm nervous." He wiped his brow with a
shaking hand.
"Don't weaken," Runnels encouraged. "I'm beginning to believe you'll
pull it off. I told my wife all about it--thought we might need
her--and she's perfectly crazy. I never saw her so excited. Let me know
as soon as you can which dance it will be. This suspense--Gad! There
they are now! Go to it, old man."
Into the lobby came a mixed group, in which were Andres Garavel, his
daughter, Ramon Alfarez, and the Cortlandts. Kirk's face was white as
he went boldly to meet them, but he did his best to smile
unconcernedly. He shook hands with Edith and her husband, bowed to
Gertrudis, then turned to meet her father's stare.
"May I have a word with you, sir?"
Garavel inclined his head silently. As the others moved on he said:
"This is hardly a suitable time or place, Mr. Anthony."
"Oh, I'm not going to kick up a fuss. I didn't answer your note,
because there was nothing to say. You still wish me to cease my
attentions?"
"I do! It is her wish and mine."
"Then I shall do so, of course. If Miss Garavel is dancing to-night I
would like your permission to place my name on her programme."
"No!" exclaimed the banker.
"Purely to avoid comment. Every one knows I have been calling upon her,
and that report of our engagement got about considerably; it would set
people talking if she snubbed me. That is the only reason I came to
this dance. Believe me, I'd rather have stayed away."
"Perhaps you are right. Let us have no unpleasantness and no gossip
about the affair, by all means. I consent, then." Garavel's voice
altered and he said, with more of his natural geniality, "I am very
glad you take the matter so sensibly, Mr. Anthony; it was, after all,
but a dream of youth."
"And permit me to offer my congratulations upon the honor your country
is about to bestow upon you." Conversing in a friendly manner, they
followed the rest of the party.
As the banker appeared upon the threshold of the ballroom a murmur ran
through the crowd; faces were turned in his direction, whispers were
exchanged, showing that already the news had travelled. Conscious of
this notice and its reason, Garavel drew himself up; he walked with the
tread of an emperor.
Kirk ignored Ramon's scowl as he requested the pleasure of seeing
Chiquita's programme; then pretended not to notice her start of
surprise. After a frightened look at her father, she timidly extended
the card to him, and he wrote his name upon it.
As he finished he found Mrs. Cortlandt regarding him.
"Will you dance with me?" he inquired. "Yes. I saved the fourth and the
tenth." As he filled in the allotted spaces, she said, in a low voice,
"You are the boldest person! Did Mr. Garavel give you leave to do that,
or--"
"Of course! Thank you." He made his way out of the press that had
gathered and toward the open air. He was shaking with nervousness and
cursed all government hotels where a man is denied the solace of a
drink.
Runnels pounced upon him just outside.
"Well, well, quick! Did you make it?"
"Number nine."
"Good! I was gnawing my finger-nails. Whew! I'm glad that is over. Now
pull yourself together and don't forget you have the first dance with
Mrs. Runnels. There goes the music. I--I'm too rattled to dance."
Anthony found his friend's wife bubbling with excitement, and scarcely
able to contain herself.
"Oh, I'll never live through it, I know," she cried, as soon as they
were out upon the floor. "How CAN you be so calm?"
"I'm not. I'm as panicky as you are."
"And she, poor little thing! She seems frightened to death."
"But--isn't she beautiful?"
Mrs. Runnels admitted the fact cheerfully, and at the same time noted
how her partner's muscles swelled and hardened as Miss Garavel glided
past in the arms of Ramon Alfarez. It gave her a thrill to see a real
drama unfolding thus before her very eyes.
To Kirk, Chiquita had never appeared so ravishing, nor so purely
Spanish as to-night. She was clad in some mysterious filmy white stuff
that floated about her form like a mist. The strangeness and brilliance
of her surroundings had frightened her a little, and the misery at her
heart had filled her wide, dark eyes with a plaintive melancholy. But
she was entirely the fine lady through it all, and she accepted the
prominence that was hers as the leading senorita of the Republic with
simple dignity and unconcern. The women began to whisper her name, the
men followed her with admiring glances. At every interval between
dances she was besieged by gayly clad officers, civilians in white--the
flower of her own people and of the American colony as well--all eager
to claim her attention or to share in her shy, slow smile.